


Edge Of A Knife

by Toni_Lynne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Knife Play, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 12:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11944314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toni_Lynne/pseuds/Toni_Lynne





	Edge Of A Knife

The bottle of whiskey was empty. Frowning, you dropped it in the small motel trashcan as you walked another lap around the small room.

You were restless, drunk, and bored. Those three things never went well together, but usually a quick orgasm would do the trick and you could fall asleep.

After your shower you had tried to find release on your own. A few shots of whiskey and you stretched out on the bed to get yourself off, but when you closed your eyes all you could see was the pompous British asshole and your fingers were no longer good enough. You switched to drinking the rest of the bottle instead.

This crush was getting in the way and you needed to do something about it.

Pulling on a pair of shorts and tank top, you skipped shoes as you walked outside, knocking on his door.

“What do you want?” he snarled when he opened the door.

You glanced over his bare feet, jeans, and t-shirt before looking up at his face. “You are grumpy, what’s your problem?”

“I’ve spent three days on the road with the bloody Winchesters, this is my second night trying to sleep in a dirty motel, and I have a bruise on my cheek that is throbbing,” he snapped.

“Oh,” you said grinning. “So….I’m bored…..wanna fuck?”

Ketch stared at you for a moment, his expression one of disbelief. “You are drunk, go to bed.”

“I’m not as think as you drunk,” you said proudly.

Ketch shook his head. “Go to bed Love.”

“Fine. Turn me down,” you said, spinning on your heel and starting across the parking lot. “I’ll find someone at the bar to fuck me. Clearly you don’t want me like I want you.”

A hand clamped around your waist and you were yanked back a few steps so you were standing between the Impala and the Bentley. “Where are you going?”

“I told you, I’m going to the bar to get laid.”

“You are drunk and being ridiculous. Go back to your room,” Ketch demanded.

“I’ve spent six fucking months wanting you and you just turned me down. I tried to get myself off and that didn’t work, so I’m going to find someone to do the job,” you ranted, shaking his hand off your arm and moving.

He grabbed you again, this time pushing you face forward against the Impala, his body pressing against you. “You want me?”

“Yes,” you hissed, wiggling your ass against his growing erection.

“You are going to regret this in the morning Love, be a good girl and walk back to your motel room right now.”

“Has anyone ever told you that your sexy when your mad?” you laughed.

A hand in your hair yanked your face back and his lips met yours in a brutal kiss, his teeth biting your lower lip.

“Inside,” you moaned as he spun you around to face him.

“I think we are fine where we are at,” he said.

His eyes studied you for a moment before he reached into his back pocket and pulled out one of his hunting knives, the blade glistening in the moonlight. He gripped your head with his free hand and brought the knife up to cheek, trailing the blade across your skin before pressing it against your lips. “Lick.”

You looked at him in surprise but he was pleased to see no fear in your eyes.

“You asked to play with fire Love. Now lick.”

You darted your tongue out to lick the silver blade, careful to avoid the sharp edge.

Ketch watched you, eyes dark as you slowly licked the length, gaze locked on him.

He pulled the knife away, setting it on the roof of the Impala. Grabbing your waist, he lifted you up on the hood of the car, pressing your chest until you leaned back.

You watched him pick the knife up again and he brought it to your neck, trailing the tip down your skin until he reached your tank top.

Lifting the material away from your skin just slightly, he sliced through the shirt and it fell open to your sides.

You tried to rub your thighs together for friction but Ketch wedged his leg between yours, forcing them apart.

The blade ran down your sternum, slicing your bra down the middle, the cups falling away. Your nipples hardened in the cool night air and Ketch turned the knife sideways, running the cold steel across them.

“Fuck,” you gasped, thrusting up.

“Ssshhhh,” he said, stepping back slightly as he brought the knife to your shorts.

“They are my only pair,” you weakly protested. He paused for a moment before unbuttoning the shorts and sliding them down your legs, dropping them on the ground at his feet. 

The blade of the knife trailed across your stomach, leaving a slight scratch before he ran it gently over your panties.

You gasped as you felt the sharp blade brush against your soaking sex. “Ketch.”

Using the knife to cut the sides he pulled your panties off and tucked them into his pocket.

He slid a finger inside, feeling how wet you were, and you closed your eyes as the sensation of his touch washed over you. 

Ketch pulled away a moment later and you were getting ready to make a noise of protest until you felt something larger press inside you.

Your eyes flew open and you looked down to see he had the blade of the knife in his hand and he was driving the handle into your sex.

“Fuck,” you moaned, watching the handle disappear and reappear, the sharp edges of the blade only centimeters away from you. “Oh fuck.”

“You better be quiet. You don’t want Winchester to wake up and find you riding my knife on the hood of his car, do you?”

His words combined with the way he was moving the knife had you on the brink of an orgasm within minutes. You were whimpering his name as your hips pushed down.

Ketch never stopped moving the blade as he reached into his pocket and pulled your panties out, leaning up to push them into your mouth. “I said be quiet.”

You came at that moment, clinching down on the handle of his knife and crying out around a mouthful of lace and silk. 

He held the knife still, watching you pulse around it. When he pulled the knife out he sat it on the hood of the car and looked up at you.

“Let’s leave the panties in, shall we?” he said, unzipping his jeans. “If my knife made you cry out like that I imagine my cock will make you scream.” He sank into you as he finished speaking, pushing as deep as he could go. 

For a moment his eyes closed, his mouth fell open, and his hands gripped the car before he seemed to regain his composure. 

Opening his eyes, he began to fuck into you hard, his fingers moved from the car to your hips and you knew you would have bruises in the morning.

You were moaning each time his cock hit your sweet spot, the sounds muffled by your panties.

One of his hands left your hip to grab your breast, pinching the nipple as he moved before trailing down to rub against your clit. You came hard, screaming his name and pushing up against him, desperate to have him as deep as possible inside you.

With a few more erratic thrusts Ketch came, ropes of his hot cum filling you. When he pulled out and took a step back you felt his release trickle down your thigh. Sitting up, your hands were shaking as you pulled your ruined panties from your mouth.

He zipped his pants up before pulling his t-shirt off and silently handing it to you. 

You slipped it on and grabbed your shorts, ready to head back to your room. 

“Let’s run you a bath,” he said, his tone much more gentle as he guided you to his room, knife forgotten on the hood of the Impala.


End file.
